Deception
by Nightwalker09
Summary: In the end, are we all obsessed with the truth? “My God, just be honest with me! Did you sleep with him?” Three couples, six people, countless lies, and one search for truth.


A/N: This chapter is just an introduction to the characters, a tiny glimpse into who they are. Our story really begins next chapter.

Prologue:

Moments in Time…

God, she just wanted to get away! Was it too much to ask? Her sneakers made wet squishing sounds as she jogged through puddles, wincing when the water splashed her bare legs. At first she had tried to avoid the puddles by skipping over them, but it soon became clear that if it wasn't the puddles soaking her, the rain would do the job soon enough.

It wasn't raining yet, but if the dark clouds overhead were any indication, it would be soon.

Her legs were starting to hurt—had it really been that long since she'd gone running? Wherever she ended up, she decided, she was going to start exercising daily.

As if on cue, the sky opened and rain poured down. Huge fat droplets drenched her hair, her pants, her sweater and, well, everything else. She turned her face up to the heavens in an almost desperate gesture.

_Why me?_

She didn't want to feel sorry for herself. She'd learned a long time ago that life threw things at you, and you either put up or gave up.

Alice Brandon wasn't a quitter.

She was starting to tilt her face back down and get a look at the street when she tripped. The ground vanished from under her feet, and she was falling…

A set of white lights raced towards her, and there was a loud screeching noise as the car vainly attempted to swerve away—

_Too late,_ she thought grimly. And then there was the pain, and the noise of a man frantically shouting, but she couldn't hear what he was saying because the world had gone black behind her eyes.

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It was late, and it was raining, and he wasn't paying much attention to the road. He was on the phone with his latest girlfriend—whom he was relatively sure wouldn't last the week.

"No, I know, Jess. I promised I'd be there, and I'm coming."

"_The show started ten minutes ago! Where are you?"_

"Just turning onto Broadway, I'll find you when I get there."

"_Fine. I'll be in the third row. Bye."_

She hung up without waiting for an answer. He sighed and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, refocusing on the road.

Jessica was pretty enough, he supposed, and good in bed. But those two qualities weren't making up for her complete lack of anything _else_, the way he'd hoped they might.

Without warning, a girl tumbled into the street, arms flung wide in an attempt to slow her fall. He wrenched the steering wheel around, trying to avoid her, and slammed on the brakes but it was futile. He winced at the sound of the car hitting flesh, and jumped out of the car.

"Hey! Hey, can you hear me? Can you move? Open your eyes if you can hear me."

The girl lay motionless on the cement, looking for all the world as if she were simply asleep. God, he prayed, please don't let her be dead.

He leaned over to check her pulse, and got a glimpse of her face.

Stunning.

This was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her head moved a fraction of an inch, jolting him back to reality.

He picked her up and carried her to the car, settling her into the backseat. He climbed back behind the wheel and began to drive, charting a course for the nearest hospital. He was pretty sure they had a hospital about half a mile away…

Yes, there it was.

He parked illegally in front of a driveway and carried her into the emergency room, cradling her against his chest. He wasn't quite sure yet what it was about her that made him feel so protective—it had to be more than her beauty. But maybe it wasn't.

She stirred a tiny bit and cracked her eyes open. Jasper stopped and stared down at her. Her eyes were enchanting, dark and mysterious. The corners of her lips quirked up into a smile.

"Hello."

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Edward was exhausted. Today alone he'd contemplated quitting twice—but each time the thought of the disappointment on his father's face stopped him. And so when, at eleven twenty nine pm a man walked in carrying the limp form of a girl, he pasted a smile on his face.

"What happened here?"

The man, tall and blonde, set the girl down with a careful gentleness that spoke volumes. "I hit her with my car."

Edward blinked.

"How fast were you going?" There didn't seem to be any gaping holes in her, or smashed bones, which was good.

"I'm not sure." The man looked agitated, but he still hadn't taken his eyes off the girl. "I didn't hit her head on, I managed to swerve. I think I just clipped her."

Edward moved forward, and looked her over briefly, noting the scrapes in her hands and across her forearms, where she'd attempted to break her fall, and the blood on her forehead. "How long has she been unconscious?"

"She came to about three minutes ago, and then went right back under."

"Hmm."

Exhaustion was pounding against the back of his brain with a sledgehammer, loudly. It was hard to hear his own thoughts over the racket. He forced himself to focus on the patient.

_Last one, and then you can go home. Last one._

He had been telling himself that for the past…hour and a half. Damn. But this time he meant it. He checked her pulse, (normal) her pupillary response (normal)—oh. Broken bone.

"Her wrist is broken," he told her boyfriend, because what else could he be? "And we'll need to close that gash in her head here. But she'll live."

The man looked relieved. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Edward Cullen." Edward stuck out his hand. The man flashed him a smile.

"Jasper Whitlock."

Edward put a cast on her wrist (she woke up at one point, and after making sure she wasn't concussed, they put her back under), glue on her forehead, and shooed them out. Finally. Rest.

He stepped out into the hallway and ran his hands over his face, trying to push back the exhaustion long enough to get to his car and get home. Something touched his shoulder, and he looked up.

A pale woman with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes was staring at him. There was a bandage wrapped around her knee, and she held an icepack. Then she spoke. "Do you need a ride home?"

Edward blinked at her. It took his tired mind slightly longer than usual to respond. "No. I have a car."

Her lips curved up into a smile, "Ah, but can you drive it?"

He smiled back at her. "It probably wouldn't be the best idea, no. Very well, then, Miss…?"

"Bella. Bella Swan."

"Bella." He liked the way it rolled off his tongue. "I'd love a ride home."

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She wasn't sure what had possessed her to walk up to the doctor and offer to drive him home. Really, talking to strangers—especially beautiful ones—wasn't something she usually did. But then again, her friends were always telling her to take chances, do something risky.

This was risky, wasn't it? She couldn't wait to tell Rose. But first things first, she had to deal with the man in front of her.

_Please,_ she prayed,_ don't let me make a fool of myself._

"So, where do you live?"

She started walking toward the exit, and he followed her. "1120 North La Salle, near Division."

"Not too far from here, then," she said. They were approaching her car now, and she almost winced. The fire-engine red pickup she drove had undoubtedly been eye catching forty years ago, in its youth—and it still was, but for the wrong reasons.

Her dad kept telling her to get a new car already, and for the first time she wished she'd listened. She snuck a peek at the doctor, but he wasn't looking at the car. He was looking at her.

"Are you going to get in?"

He started, and then smiled sheepishly. "Yes."

She smiled back, and shifted into drive. "So, how long did they keep you at the hospital tonight?"

"Since six thirty in the morning," he sighed, "For the fifth day in a row. I'm Edward Cullen by the way."

"I know."

_Oops._ She wished the floor would open wide and swallow her up. Had she just said that out loud?

"I mean," she said quickly, "I come to the hospital a lot, and I've seen you around before, and the nurses say your name when they call you…" she trailed off.

He was smiling a little. "I see."

She had the sneaking suspicion he was playing with her. She realized suddenly, when he turned his face and smiled a little more broadly at her, that it didn't bother her. Not one bit.

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It was late and dark outside, but she didn't mind. It was nice to walk by yourself, sometimes, in the city. There were streetlamps on this block, and houses. If she needed to, she could scream.

Besides, she needed the extra time to unwind. Her day—no, make that the entire _week_—had been a mess. Deadlines moved up, extra projects, errors on page seven, etc. But that was life, take it or leave it.

Her heels made distinct clicking noises on the pavement, short, sharp sounds. Very different from, say, the sounds a pair of hiking boots would make. Which was when she realized she had company.

There were two of them, she decided, after a moment of listening. Their footsteps were out of sync. Two, where even one would have been too many to handle. Was this the purse she kept the pepper spray in? No, that was the white one. Damn it all, anyway.

She quickened her pace and glanced around. Oh, what she wouldn't give for a taxi right this moment. But what taxi would be driving around a residential neighborhood?

There was a loud whistle from behind her, followed by raucous laughter. She ignored it.

"Hey sweetie, come on." The voice was much too close now—she reaffirmed this opinion when she felt a hand grab her arm. "Walk with us."

His friend came up on her other side, leering, "Yeah; a pretty lady like you shouldn't be roaming these streets alone at night."

She wrenched her arm away. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Oh, she _doesn't_ want to walk with us?"

There was a chuckle, "That's fine. I can think of plenty more things more fun than walking."

Her heart was beating a mile a minute. She screamed, loudly. "_HELP! SOMEBODY, PLEASE--"_

The first man slapped a hand over her mouth, and the second one grabbed her arms. "None of that, now…"

She kicked and bit, struggling to pull herself free. It wasn't working. Oh, hell it wasn't _working_. Trapped, trapped, breathe, breathe.

The sound of running footsteps interrupted her flow of thought. _Tennis shoes, _she thought inanely, _probably size thirteen…_

There was the smacking sound of a fist hitting flesh, and then she was free. Stumbling, she let herself fall ungracefully to the pavement. She sat stupidly for a minute, shaking her head. Then the fact that she was free sank in and she stumbled to her feet.

"Hey! Wait!"

That was a different voice, calling her. She sped up. He caught up to her anyways, unsurprisingly, and jogged alongside her.

"Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

She ignored him.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No!" she shouted—or tried to, the effect was ruined by the fact that she was gasping for breath. She turned her head to glare at him, and his eyes widened. She slowed down to something more like a power walk, giving her lungs a chance to recuperate.

"What I need," she told him once she was sure she could speak without sounding like a chain smoker, "is for you to leave me alone."

"What, no 'thank you for rescuing me'?" He even had the nerve to sound amused.

She gave him a scathing look.

"I'll take that as a no."

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It was pure chance, really, that had sent him through the residential part of the south side. Usually he liked to take the path along the beach. But today he was very glad he had deviated from routine.

This woman was _gorgeous_.

And classy, too, judging from her clothing. Worked for a living. Unmarried, or she wouldn't be walking these streets alone after dark. In other words, perfect.

"Let me at least walk you home," he said, watching her face.

She frowned, but he could tell it was more of a token resistance than any real distaste.

"How do I know you're not some kind of pervert?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Doll, I just _saved _you from the perverts."

"Don't call me that!"

He grinned, easily. "Sure thing…babe."

He ducked just in time to avoid the swing of her expensive looking purse. But at least she was looking at him now. She had pretty eyes. And pretty lips…but it was too early to be thinking about that.

Oh hell, who was he kidding?

"I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Emmett McCarty."

She sighed in resignation. "Rosalie Hale." She stopped and stuck out her hand to shake, in a graceful motion that seemed almost unconscious. It occurred to him that her job probably involved meeting a lot of important people.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. She snatched it away immediately, but he caught the hint of a blush that lit up her cheeks. She turned away quickly and began to walk again.

He followed her cheerfully, already making plans for the future.

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End file.
